The Brotherhood
by Washbrained
Summary: Tucker is tired of being taken for granted on Team Phantom, so when Jazz invites him to join a group of highly trained ghost hunters, he feels he has no choice but to accept. TxJ
1. Pathetic Excuse of a Life

**H.: **Inspired by the film Wanted.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Danny Phantom, nor do I own the film Wanted. What a surprise.

**Warning: **Contains Jazz x Tucker romance, some Danny, Sam, and Valerie bashing, violent situations, mild language, sexual situations, and evil fruit loops. Can't get much better than that.

* * *

I toyed with my PDA absent-mindedly in the cafeteria of Casper High as Danny and Sam, my best friends since pre-K, whispered animatedly to each other, hunched over a crudely drawn map of Amity Park as they tried to determine where a ghost would strike next. Normally, I would be in on the discussion, but during the past month, as Danny's ghost powers and Sam's ghost hunting skills evolved, they found that they no longer needed me, and began to push me away. It had started out fairly inconspicuously; I was invited over to their houses less often, their phone calls began to decrease, and they pretty much ignored my existence when we were fighting ghosts. Whenever I confronted them about it, they always claimed that they had had it under control, or they had been too busy fighting the ghost to notice anything, and insisted that I was being ridiculous in thinking that they were trying to get rid of me, but I wasn't fooled. I may not get the best grades in school, but I'm not stupid.

"Skulker attacked this store twice, then attacked a store four blocks away from it another two times...there's a pattern somewhere, I know it..."

I tried to tune out their voices and focus on the game I had randomly picked to play on my PDA, but it was futile. They were whispering, yet their voices seemed so loud and so fast and so smug and just so damn annoying. I could barely stand them. I remember the people they used to be--considerate, modest people that actually cared about their friends--but now, I guess they were so caught up in their little fantasy of "saving the world together" and being "heroes" that they had become self-conceited bastards who would throw their friend away without hesitation if it meant rising to a higher "hero" level. Well excuse me for not being "good enough".

It's times like these that I ask myself why I still hang out with them. Sure, I'm still a member of Team Phantom, but they never really give me a chance to do any serious ghost-butt kicking, unless throwing them the thermos qualifies as "fighting". It's not that I can't fight; they've seen me handle ecto-guns and shoot down ghosts before, back in "the good ol' days", as I like to call it. It's not that they're worried about my safety--if that were so, Danny would have Sam tied up to a chair and all the doors and windows locked every time a ghost attacked, to prevent her from trying to fight. They must have just gotten tired of me.

"If he attacks this store next, we can sneak in through this door over here..."

With a frustrated sigh, I shut my PDA off and stuffed it into my backpack. There was no use trying to block out their voices; whether they were aware of it or not (and I'm sure they were), they somehow always managed to find some way to drive me to the brink of insanity. Pretty soon, I would either cram my headphones into my ears and crank up the volume on my iPod until the music drowned their voices, or simply get up and walk away. Not at that point yet (but I was steadily getting there with every smug whisper they uttered), I looked around the cafeteria, hoping for a distraction, and was surprised to discover that Jazz was staring at me.

I stared back. She had changed a lot, too, although not into arrogance like Danny and Sam. They were just full of themselves, but Jazz--or Jasmine, as she now demanded to be called--seemed to have a secret purpose that she was fully confident of achieving, without being smug about it. You could practically feel the heat of her strange new confidence burning in her eyes, daring you to try and stop her.

No one knew how it had started. One day she was sweet, meek Jazz, and the next day it was as if someone had kidnapped the real Jazz and was now impersonating her. This new Jazz was secretive, solitary, seductive, and the reigning queen of confidence. She was a force not to be reckoned with, for it now seemed that she could knock the living daylights out of the toughest wrestler with a single punch. No one had ever actually seen her punch anyone, but there was just something about her now that made her seem as if she could do anything. Unfortunately, this made people fear rather than respect her. Her new treatment of people was uncomfortable and a little tense; she could not relate to people anymore. It was as if the only thing she could talk about was something that they wouldn't understand, and she withdrew from social groups not because she believed herself better than other people, but because they simply wouldn't understand her.

She still got good grades (in fact, her grades seemed to increase even more), and she was still lovingly devoted to her parents, but she now respected their ghost hunting, even going as far as to ask them for tips and trying to learn all she could about ghosts from them. Perhaps the most obvious change was her relationship with her brother, Danny. Before, she was obnoxious and rather clingy, like an overbearing, overprotective mother, but now she seemed to have "moved on" from him and gave him plenty of space. Her view of him appeared to have changed just like mine. She no longer saw him as her little hero, but instead a mere child in way over his head with the whole "saving the world" thing.

Eventually, Jazz broke away from my gaze and got up from her table--where she was sitting alone, as she had been when the change started--to throw the remnants of her lunch away. Her clothing and general appearance had changed, too. Her long, orange hair no longer flowed freely down her back but was instead captured in a single, tight braid. Her usual black long-sleeved shirt had been boldly replaced with a light blue spaghetti strap tank top that teasingly bared a strip of stomach and showed off her beautifully toned shoulders and back as well as the muscular structure of her arms. She had abandoned the tacky turquoise pants that were too short around the ankles and now donned a pair of black leather pants that don't draw stares from me only. She confidently strutted around the school in black, knee-high leather boots with a semi-thick heel of three inches instead of her old black flats. Truth be told, I think she's hot as hell, although I'll never mention this aloud.

"Tucker!"

I jumped in surprise at the sound of my name being shouted and turned away from Jazz's luscious form to face my current girlfriend, Valerie Grey. Absent-mindedly I compared their bodies. Valerie was voluptuous, with full lips and a cherubic face, but she--none of the other girls in school, for that matter--just didn't measure up to Jazz in terms of hotness. Right now, Valerie's full lips were pursed in annoyance, her cherubic face was wrinkled with displeasure, and her glistening emerald eyes were narrowed angrily.

"I've been trying to get your attention for the past three minutes, Tucker," she informed me crossly. Danny and Sam snickered. "I don't like to be ignored. Why are you staring at that freak?" Ah, yes, "freak", the nickname Valerie crowned Jazz with as a display of her affection.

"No reason," I excused myself quickly; then, before she could ask anymore irritating questions, I continued, "Let's go somewhere else." I took her by the wrist and led her to the back of the school, where we promptly proceeded to make out meaninglessly. In my mind, I imagined that it was Jazz I was kissing instead of this cheating bitch. Of course I know that she's secretly going out with Kwan. It's kind of hard not to notice with the way they blatantly flirt with each other, and right in front of me, too. It's sickening. As is Danny and Sam's arrogance. And the way I'm being ignored. And how much of a loser I am. But alas, this is my life. And it sucks.


	2. The Invitation

**H.: **Chapter two.

* * *

When Valerie came out of the art room, clothing disheveled and face flushed, and Kwan emerged a moment later in equal disarray, I didn't need a genius to tell me that they had been making out.

"Hey Tucker," Valerie greeted me a little breathlessly, hastily buttoning up the top of her blouse and flashing me the most innocent smile she could muster. Bitch must think I'm stupid. "What's up?"

What's up? I'll tell you what's up. My supposedly best friends don't want me anymore, no one else wants to risk their popularity by hanging out with me, I'm on the yellow brick road to failure in school, my parents are too caught up in their own problems to notice mine, I hate my job at the Nasty Burger, I am now officially the most picked on kid in Casper High, and my girlfriend's cheating on me but I'm too much of a loser to do anything about it.

"Eh, not much."

"Well, I'm gonna go talk to my girl friends before the bell rings." The irritating, 'I'm innocent' smile was still there as she gave me a quick peck on the cheek and started to walk away, waving behind her. "See you later."

"Bye." My voice was pathetic, weak, and drenched in self-loathing. Why do I have to be such a damn loser? I should have told her off right then and there; sure, the whole school knew about her and Kwan, but I'm sure they would have enjoyed seeing that fake smile wiped off her face as much as I would have. If I had stood up for myself and decided that enough was enough, maybe I wouldn't be treated as badly as I am now. I would lose Valerie for sure, but maybe I'd get a new, better girlfriend. Maybe I'd be accepted into some kind of social group; I'm not even welcome with the techno geeks anymore. Maybe Danny and Sam would finally take me seriously and start paying attention to me again. Maybe I'd finally be somebody. But none of that is going to happen, because I'm still one pathetic, sorry loser.

The bell suddenly rang shrilly in the air, and with a defeated sigh, I trudged over to my first class.

"Late again, Mr. Foley," Mr. Lancer tsked. Turns out he was accepted to teach tenth and eleventh grade English too, so we're stuck with him for another two miserable years. "I'm afraid that if you are late one more time, I will be forced to contact your parents." Forced, yeah right. He's just looking for an excuse to get back at me for last year, when I put salt in his coffee. Man, the look on his face when he drank it! Unfortunately, that practical joke is now costing me dearly; I almost wish I hadn't done it. Almost.

Danny and Sam were snickering, their smiles wide and smug. I glared at them. So much for all the times they had come in late and I had covered for them. Ungrateful traitors. At Lancer's command, I sat down in my usual seat and tried to ignore their snickers, but it was harder because I left my PDA in my locker. There was no way I could focus on Lancer's lesson either; it was ridiculously boring and hard to understand, but I had no choice but to sit through it, Lancer's words and Danny and Sam's snickers ringing through my head in a confusing jumble. My head began to pound as I felt a headache coming on, and I fought the urge to rest it on my desk; Lancer would find a way to punish me for not paying attention. All I could do was stare blankly at the blackboard, the snickers clawing at my brain, and desperately wish the day would be over soon.

"Out of the way, Techno Geek! This line is reserved for non-losers only." With this statement, I was roughly shoved out of the lunch line I was standing in. I fell to the ground unceremoniously and looked up into the faces of Dash Baxter and his group of popular jocks and cheerleaders. They threw my lunch tray at me. It met my forehead with a painful clang, and my harassers walked away, laughing loudly. Rubbing my forehead, I picked up my tray silently and went back in line. I knew today was going to be a bad day. Oh well, at least I had been let off easily this time. After I purchased my lunch, I walked over to Danny and Sam's table. The only reason I still eat with them is because I have no where else to sit, and I don't want to look anymore of a loser than I already am by sitting alone at a table like Jazz. So I sat next to my ex-best friends, and tried to get as much pleasure as I could out of eating with their obnoxious whispering ringing in my ears.

"If we take the Specter Speeder, we can catch Technus before he..."

I clenched my fists subconsciously and glanced at my watch. Thirty more minutes of putting up with them. I slumped over the lunch table and sighed angrily. Why am I here? Why do I have to be such a loser?

Someone suddenly tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around to face Valerie.

"Hey, Tucker, I know I promised you yesterday that I'd eat lunch with you..." She did? Well, I suppose it didn't matter whether she was making it up or not. I've stopped believing in her ability to keep promises. "But I told the girls that I'd watch Kwan and his team play football, so...another time?" And that is exactly why. I looked over to her table, where Kwan was chatting with her friends. I caught his eye for a second but he quickly looked away. Coward.

I looked back at Valerie, who was smiling innocently at me. How I would love to tell her off and watch that smile disappear from her smug face...

"Sure," I said, hating the weakness in my voice. "We can eat together another time. I don't mind. You go ahead and be with your friends."

Valerie's smile widened as she relished in her dominance over me, and she briefly kissed my cheek before skipping back to her friends and leaving the cafeteria with them. She had her tongue in Kwan's mouth before they were even out the door. Danny and Sam smirked at each other before going back to their plans of catching Technus.

"Let's split up here. If I take the back door and you take the front, we can..."

I glanced at my watch again. Only five minutes had passed. Danny and Sam's whispering seemed to get louder and more irritating with every second. I clenched my fists tighter, my nails digging into the skin of my palms. Eventually, I couldn't stand the sound of their voices anymore, and stood up to throw the rest of my lunch away so that I could go to the library and use the computers. I kept my head down, lost in my usual fantasy of being popular that will never become a reality, and ended up so deep in thought that I didn't see Dash until I walked right into him.

"Hey!" Dash shouted angrily. "Watch it, Techno Geek!" He swung his hand back and I cowered, expecting to be hit, but instead, his hand came up on the bottom of my lunch tray, flipping it over. My shirt was instantly soiled with ketchup and other sauces from my food, and the entire cafeteria erupted into laughter. Dash and his goons clapped each other on the back and high fived one another. All around me, people were laughing and pointing. The sounds pierced my brain and caused my cheeks to flush in embarrassment and anger. When I looked over at Danny and Sam, I was hurt but not surprised to see them howling in laughter as well. The only person who was not laughing was Jazz, whose face remained expressionless as she stared at me. With a furious growl, I flung my tray in the garbage and strode out of the cafeteria, leaving the laughter behind me. I went over to my locker to get the spare shirt that I always keep in there for occasions like these, but no matter how many times I tried, it refused to unlock. I slammed my fist against it.

"Perfect!" I screamed. "Just perfect!" I then banged my head against the hard metal of the locker and closed my eyes, sighing.

I soon heard a soft click and opened my eyes to reveal Jazz, standing next to me with the open lock in her hands. Her face was still expressionless, but her eyes were thoughtful and wondering, as if she were contemplating something. She handed me the lock and I wanted to ask her how she unlocked it and if she had looked through my stuff, but I just took the lock silently and opened my locker to get the shirt. Jazz watched me carefully as I rummaged through the mess in my locker.

"You shouldn't let them push you around like that," she finally said. I ignored her, not in the mood for words of wisdom. "You don't have to let them, you know." She placed her hand on the locker next to mine and leaned on it. On the middle finger of her left hand was an onyx ring, which was shaped to look like the head of a black jaguar and had two small emeralds for eyes. It glistened in the dim hallway lights. "I can help you."

I eyed her incredulously but remained silent. I began to search more frantically for my shirt, eager to get away from her. She was hot, but she sure had gotten weird...

"You want to fight ghosts."

I paused for a moment, then shook my head and continued my search. No, better not to ask any questions.

"I can see it in your face," Jazz continued, unfazed by my lack of response. "Every time Danny and Sam are taking down a ghost, you long to join them. To prove to them your usefulness as a fighter and a friend." She tilted her head slightly, studying my face. "But they won't let you." She paused, I suppose waiting for me to confirm this, but I was determined to ignore her. I've been put through enough crap today; I don't need to deal with Jazz now, too.

"I know someone who will." I took a deep breath and willed for Jazz to leave me alone. "In fact, he will welcome you, train you, turn you into the ultimate ghost fighter. You don't need Danny and Sam. Come with me, and I will show you why."

I finally gave up looking for the shirt and sighed loudly. "You're not gonna leave me alone, are you?" I asked her bitterly. She smiled.

"I'm not trying you force you into anything," she said.

"Oh, really?" I said sarcastically.

"No," she insisted calmly, "But I would really like to show you something, because I know it will help you decide."

"Oh, don't worry about it," I told her in mock refusal, "You don't need to show me anything, because I'm not going anywhere. Now please, go away and leave me alone."

She didn't move. "I am a ghost hunter now. Part of a group of highly trained ghost hunters. You would do well to join us, unless you want to stay a loser for the rest of your life."

I opened my mouth angrily to retort, but just then, she yelled "Get down!" and shoved me to the ground as the wall at the end of the hall exploded. I jerked my head around. A large ghost was floating above the rubble of destroyed bricks, not laughing wildly like most of the ghosts that terrorized Amity Park, but silently staring ahead through red, narrowed eyes. It took a second to realize that he was staring at me, but before I could even begin to imagine why, the ghost raised his hand and formed an ecto beam. I scrunched myself up into a tiny ball, waiting for the end to come, but just as the ghost was about to throw the hit, Jazz suddenly leapt in front of me, pulled out an ecto-handgun, and fired a shot of her own without fear. It hit the ghost squarely on the chest, the force of it causing him to be thrown back through the hole in the wall. Students and teachers were now pouring out of the cafeteria, mumbling loudly to each other in confused panic as they tried to determine what all the commotion was about. I tried to run to the nearest teacher to explain what had happened and be protected, but Jazz seized me roughly by the arm and dragged me to the end of the hall, where she made a sharp turn around the lockers and barged into an empty bathroom. I tore my arm away from her clutch.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, both angry and intimidated by her actions. She said nothing, only scanned the bathroom to ensure that it was empty before reaching into the purse that hung at her side and pulling out a tiny gun about the size one might make for an Action Chick Barbie. She flipped it into the air like a coin, and to my shock, the contact it made with moving air molecules caused it to enlarge to its full size as a Safari Arms Matchmaster 1911. She handed it to me.

"Hold this for a minute, please."

I gaped at her, but by the time I had formed the words to speak, she had already strode into an empty stall.

"Catch!" I heard her say.

"Wha-?" I was cut off by her clothes smacking me in the face. Moments later, she emerged from the stall looking like she just came out of the Resident Evil movie in her wine red spaghetti strap dress, which--because of the slit on the left side--would have been very revealing had she not been wearing dark red mini-shorts underneath, and her usual high-heeled boots. The only difference in her Alice imitation was that she was wearing a black mask in the form of a jaguar's head that covered her face and orange hair, thus rendering her unrecognizable and keeping her true identity safe. She took the Safari gun from my hands and stuffed her previous outfit in a plastic bag, which she hid behind a sink to come back for later.

"Uh...why did you just change your clothes?" I ventured to ask.

"Disguise," Jazz answered simply as she grabbed my arm again--I was sure there were some bruises there by now--and, without warning, shoved the bathroom door open. The ghost was no longer in the hall, and the students had now resorted to screaming their heads off to express their terror. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam push Danny into an empty classroom, but I could not analyze the situation any further, because Jazz suddenly broke into a run, turning a sharp corner past the bathroom to the end of another hall. With her firm grip on my arm, I had no choice but to be dragged with her. She stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall, her alerted turquoise eyes darting around excitedly.

"Jazz?" I started, wondering why she had stopped here. She pointed upwards, where a large vent was nestled into the chipped white paint of the ceiling.

"I need to get on your shoulders," she announced, much to my confusion.

"Huh?"

"Your shoulders," she repeated, although her tone was not annoyed. "I need to get on them. Don't argue with me, just do as I say."

If anyone else would have commanded me so, I probably would have protested, but for some reason, I couldn't say no to Jazz. Before I knew it, her legs were around my neck, and she was using an ebony J.A. Harkins Triton knife--which came dangerously close to my cheek when she pulled it out of her right boot--to pry the vent open. My hands rested on her knees, but my face immediately began to heat up at the thought of moving my hands up a bit, just a little bit...

Inconspicuously (so I hoped), my fingers started to work their way up towards her thighs very slowly, my face growing hotter with every trace of new skin I touched. I soon reached the edge of her dress, and it was at that exact moment that the vent obliged to Jazz's silent request to open, and she pulled herself into the now unblocked air duct, slipping her legs out of my hands. I didn't have much time to grieve over the loss of her legs, however, for she then reached down, grabbed me under the arms, and pulled me in the air duct with surprising strength.

"Hey!" I exclaimed as she drew my legs in, thus eliminating the risk of my sliding out the hole. "What do you think you're doing?! Get me back down!"

She ignored me, as usual, and began to crawl through the narrow space of the air duct, motioning for me to follow her. I did so, albeit a little nervously, and we crawled to who knows where. The inside of the air duct was nothing like in the movies, but then again, since when do movies stick to reality? It was pitch dark, first of all; Jazz had a flashlight in her mouth in order to see where she was going. It was also absolutely filthy and very dusty, and screws from outside had been drilled into various sections of the metal. Jazz reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of gum, which she unwrapped and stuck onto the jutting screw ends to prevent getting scratched by them. The flashlight, however, provided limited light and caused her to miss many screws, so by the time Jazz reached another air vent and began to pry it open with her knife, our arms and legs were covered in tiny criss-crossing scratch marks.

The air vent we had reached led to the school parking lot. There were no students or teachers outside--I assumed the school went into GLM (Ghost Lockdown Mode), as it always does whenever a ghost attacks--but the people who were already outside when the ghost broke in were screaming and running for help, and I could indistinctly hear the sound of sirens wailing, growing louder with each second that passed. Without a moment's pause, Jazz leapt down through the hole of the air vent, her feet meeting the gravel of the parking lot ground in a perfect landing. She waved her arms in a 'come on' gesture, and I jumped down, landing none-too-gracefully on my feet and immediately falling backwards from the force of the distance I had just jumped. My ankles began to throb mildly, but I had no chance to rub them, for she grabbed me by the arm again and hauled me up, throwing herself back-first against the brick wall of the school building and pulling me with her. I now had a back to add to my list of throbbing body parts.

I suddenly heard a shrill scream, and realized with horror that the ghost had phased through one of the walls, and was now towering menacingly over a group of juniors. Before I could stop her, Jazz ran towards the ghost with admirable speed and did a sort of half-flip, pushing herself off the ground forcefully with her hands and delivering an incredible kick to the back of the ghost's head. The ghost lunged forward from the force of the impact, but otherwise made no sound. He turned around slowly, crimson eyes glaring at Jazz with such white-hot anger that I actually felt burned. Jazz, on the other hand, ignored his stare and ran to me, pushed herself away from the wall with her foot, and ran back to the ghost with all the speed she could muster. This time, however, she pulled the Safari gun from the holder on her thigh and took aim.

Sensing her intentions, the ghost grabbed one of the juniors harshly and yanked her in front of him, using her body as a shield. Jazz did not falter. Instead, she stopped a few feet away from the ghost, cocked her gun, and swung her arm back.

"Jazz, NO!" I screamed, my warning drowned out by the shriek of pure terror emitted from the junior. But it was too late. Jazz swung her arm forward so that the gun was pointed directly at the junior's chest, and fired.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion. The bullet moved slowly, purposefully. I tried to close my eyes and block out the inevitable, but found that my eyelids would not cooperate, leaving me vulnerable to horrible tragedy that was about to occur.

But it never occurred.

To my utter shock, the bullet passed right through the junior as if it had gone intangible, leaving the student completely unharmed, without a single scrape. It was not so merciful to the ghost, however, and embedded itself into the spirit's chest with a sickening thump. The ghost lurched backwards and hovered in the air for a moment, writhing in agony, before the bullet took on a pale green shade. The shade spread across the ghost's body until he was wrapped in the thin film, then compressed until the ghost literally faded out of existence.

I stared, unmoving. The junior screamed once more, then passed out right on the pavement of the parking lot. Jazz's lips curled into a satisfied smirk, and she performed an impressive flipping trick with her gun before tucking it back into its holster. She turned to me.

"You have been invited to join The Brotherhood," she announced, tossing me a small manila envelope. "Heed our offer, and you will not regret it."

She leaned down and settled her hand on my shoulder. "This is your chance to live, Tucker," she said softly. "Take it." And then she walked away as if nothing had happened.

For a moment, I only sat there, motionless, the envelope on my lap unacknowledged. When I finally recovered from my shock, all I could manage were three words.

"What the fuck?!"


End file.
